I just hope it won't be TOO strange
by TheLlamaArmada628
Summary: AU. Escaping an abusive home, John gets thrown into a world of strange by being sent to a University for misfits, which includes being dorm mates with Sherlock Holmes. He can only hope it won't be too weird...or dangerous. Rated T for violence. Johnlock...and Cases! Cases! Cases!


**This has been floating around in my mind for awhile, so I thought I'd post it. This is my second Sherlock fanfic and I'm super surprised that I even wrote this. Also I would like to note that I am American and am not familiar with how it is in England (vocabulary or culture). So if you have any corrections I would gratefully accept them. Also please correct me if anything seems out of character. I would love to get a better sense if I'm depicting the characters right, which I do not own. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy! Reviews would be a wonderful Christmas gift *Wink wink***

**Warnings: Implied rape (nothing detailed) and abuse.**

* * *

"John! John!" I could hear Harry's distressed voice as if I were underwater, muffled and distant. I could also hear the sound of rattling or rather someone beating on something solid. "John! Please wake up! John! Please!" She cried, my heart stopped, Harry was in danger but somehow I couldn't find her.

I struggled to find her in the darkness but I just couldn't find her, even though she was calling me over and over.

"Open this door right now! You ungrateful little..." The voice howled in pain, and Harry's hysteric crying became louder.

Dad...that was dad's voice! Oh my God Harry!

My eyes flew open and I launched myself to help, I remember now. Our lives depended on the protection of a door.

"John..." I heard Harry exhaled lowly. I've never seen Harry look so frightened before, I saw the bruises on her arms and on her eye. I tried my hardest to put in order my blurred memories.

She had suddenly came out of nowhere and demanded that dad hand me over. Usually he would've beat her right there on the porch. But she was smart and brought a friend with her, Clara, who by her blatant attitude knew my father was abusive. We both knew dad wouldn't beat her in front of a friend, and despite my warnings, when invited in, they both made themselves at home. And had a nice chat, but Clara had made the fatal mistake of correcting my father AND insulting the military. Dad snapped and went for Clara, Harry defended Clara, and dad began bashing Harriet's head into the wall, I jumped on him got him off of her, and I fought him both being equal until he bashed the lamp over my head…Next thing I knew dad had me in a leg lock that I swore had broken it, then he proceeded to choke me until the world turned black, I thought I had died. But Harriet managed to get Clara out to phone the police, and dragged me to the bathroom and locked the door while dad was distracted catching up with Clara, I was worried until Harry said something about Clara being a award winning track runner. It didn't take but one strong turn of those bloodied military hands to break the lock...and then began the battle for the control of the door.

Harry sat her back against the door while I pushed it, fighting dad's grip. Finally he let go, and we shut the door. And rested on it, prepared for him to charge... He did nothing. It was silent, which was scarier than any mad bashing of the door.

I put my ear to the door to hear if he was still out there, something told me that just because we could hear the sirens doesn't mean that he ran for it...no he was planning something.

"Do you hear anything?" Harry whispered.

I shook my head, when a loud bang broke through the door and the mirror shattered. My head whipped to see if Harry was alright, she had small specks of blood on her, obviously not hers.

"John, your shoulder!" She screamed.

I shrugged to see the damage, it was pretty much point blank. I could see the gaping wound but I didn't quite register it. It felt numb for the moment, but I knew soon it'd develop into flames of steering pain.

"Police, put your weapon down! Put it down!" We heard something drop and heard the arrest of our father through the door. It seemed unreal. So...un...real...

The floor seemed to tilt as I fell toward it.

"Oh John! In here! We need an ambulance!" That was the last words I heard until I returned to the darkness.

* * *

"Good morning sunshine! John...Hamish, how English, not to mention your surname, Watson. "I awoke to find this weirdo standing over me pointing a light pen in my eyes.

"Who the hell are you?" I questioned smacking the light pen from his hand.

"Jim Moriarty." He patted my head and flicked my IV.

"Oh well...that's lovely but_"

"Aren't I? Thank you for noticing." He interrupted.

"W-where's the nurse?" I finished.

"Moooooolllllly!" He sung hopping onto my bed to sit.

This man is so...feminine. Maybe gay...

"Shhhh! Jim! Your not supposed to even be here! Go back to the waiting room!" A rather pretty looking nurse walked in with a clip board.

"It's rare to find someone our age here, thought I'd meet him. Plus he looks fun." He turned and gave me a wink. "Please sweetie, can I stay?" He turned back to the nurse and kicked his legs like a child.

"Oh fine." She giggled at the word 'sweetie'." If my mum comes in tell her that, you're his cousin." She whispered and slipped out of the room. She must've been an intern, both her and Jim, were about my age.

"So Johnny boy, what university are you attending?" He asked suddenly grabbing a paper from the side table.

"Oh, I was going to just a normal uni, nothing fancy." I lied.

An University? I wasn't even planning on going. I was going to the military and go wherever they decided to send me. Just like dad was forcing me to do...but now, I could go to a university if I wanted, couldn't I? I could feel a small smirk make its way onto my face.

"Well Johnny Boy, looks like you're going to the same college as me. That honey, is fancy." He waved the paper he had grabbed, that...was for me?

"Huh?! Hepburn?! I knew I had high marks but not that good!" I gawked.

"Your mum, just dropped off your acceptance letter." He handed me the letter, smiling at my stunned reaction.

"My mum? That's impossible, I haven't seen my mum since I was 2." True, as soon as my father started abusing her...and us, she took Harry and ran for the hills. Leaving me with dad...I only recently heard from Harry, we had a strained relationship but hopefully after this...bonding experience, perhaps we can get over that she said she was glad to leave me all alone…no, she saved me for some odd but wonderful reason. I need to remember that before I get too bitter about the past.

"You've gotten yourself in quiiiiiite a pickle! And it seems interesting...but I've got to go, I have bigger fish to fry. Byeeeeeeeee!" He sung again, now hopping off my bed and leaving.

"He was a strange fellow..."

"Oh how nice of you to say so, you sure know how to press the all right buttons, don't you?" He winked and preceded to strolled grab his car keys off the sink station and left once more. And then popped his head in again. "Bye." He whispered.

"Bye." I said politely and effectively ended that weird scene and moved onto the confused one, like why I was at a hospital in central London!

"Oh, you're awake?" A voice from the doorway at first I thought it was Molly, but she was older. "My name is Moira Hooper. I'm a doctor of various things_"

"You mean a social worker." I deadpanned. "I will be living with my mother, yes?"

"John, your 18, you get to decide that yourself. I'm here on the behalf of your injuries and your...state of mind. Your sister has informed us of your nightmares."

"I have PTSD, I got it." I never did like doctors, they always thought they knew what was going on when they had no idea.

"Walk." She ordered.

I slowly rose and careful to avoid moving my shoulder. I stepped and almost met the floor, I had to steady myself on the bed.

"What did you do ?"

"I didn't do anything. Your father didn't do anything. You did it. There's nothing physically wrong with your leg." H-how is that even possible?!

"What do you mean? My leg is limp! And I'm pretty sure it's broken, it was that bloody leg lock that dad put me in!" I huffed.

"If you say so...but you can take a look at the x ray results, nothing." She held the results out to me, and I so frantically looked for something, a crack, a hole, something! Dear God, this is all in my head? How am I even supposed to get over something like this…that doesn't even make sense! It must be one of those medical anomalies.

"So how do you...?"

"We don't know, that's why we're referring you to a counselor."

"Damn the counselors!" Dr. Hooper looked shocked then returned to her fox like facial expression. "Oh God, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, just...go to the sessions." She handed me the number and the times.

"Thank you."

I was alive, but my life as I knew it was gone. No more coming home and getting beat, no more curfew at ridiculous times, no more lying about tripping and falling, no more people thinking that I'm exaggerating. My father was abusive, and now he couldn't touch me anymore. No way, that he could possibly justify shooting me through a locked door, or punching Harry, plus Clara saw it! Everything was really over.

A small smile made it's way to my lips, everything bad had happened to me. Now nothing's going to happen to me. It sounded good, in fact I've been waiting for something or someone to step in and save me. And she did, Harry had freed me. It was going to normal.

Sessions: NOW, and at this time every 2 weeks!

Shauna Hillston- across the street, front desk, tell receptionist your name.

Well Ms. Moira Hooper is very to the point…I checked myself out and someone wheeled me over across the street. They handed me a cane, and I was left to my own devices, spectacular.

"Hello, my name is John Watson." I said to the receptitionist who happened to be on her phone.

"Ms. Hillston will see you now." She jerked her head toward the door to her right and I went right on in.

"Hello John, um, this is really so embarrassing and really, really unprofessional but my girlfriend is at the hospital giving birth I have to go." She apologizes and hands me a paper, then scurries over to her mobile and makes a freaked out squeal.

"Oh yes, of course." I nodded, oh, wow.

"Um, what I would recommend is to write a journal or a blog, no definitely do a blog. Just of things that happen to you while your reseting your life, I'm sure it'll be fantastic!" She said not even looking at me, while she shuffled some papers on her desk.

"Why a blog?" I asked.

"So everyone can see, John, your so closed off, honey." She looked at me this time, closed off? How?

"Oh I see…" No I don't, why does everyone have to see my business?

"You don't have to reveal anything your not comfortable with, just something that you can look back and see how you progressed." She gathered her purse and her files and rushed past me. "I'll see you in two weeks!" She yelled as she ran past me. And that was it, I can only hope the weirdness stops there!

* * *

I went 'home' that night, limping with a cane, showing up at my 'mother's' door, her not even bothering to pick me up, then again she wasn't far. She lived on a small flat two blocks away.

"Hello? Oh, I'm sorry but I'm quite solid in my faith." I haven't seen her in sever years and she thinks I'm a religious advocate?!

"No mum, it's me." No, I will not call her mum, a mother doesn't leave you with your abusive father. It's Jane.

"Well, hello me!" She chuckled at her own joke, then her features hardened when she noticed my watch. "Are you Harold or John?"

She did not. Harold drank himself to death several years ago! And she didn't even know that? Sure, I'm wearing Harold's watch but does she not see herself in me? I mean I am the only child named with J as my first name not my middle. Harriet and Harold looked like my father, Harvey, as babies, so they were named with J as their middle name. I was named with a J as my first name because I looked like my mother, Jane. It's a family tradition! No matter how I deny it, I still look like her! Honestly!

"Nevermind, I-I'll call Harry, she must be at Clara's…" I turned around when I felt her frail hand on my arm. And for some reason she started crying.

"Oh dear, it's my little John! Oh sweetheart, I am so sorry. It's just your brother keeps calling asking for money. And no need child, Harriet is on the sofa, right now."

Jane hugged me. I looked over shoulder to Harry on the sofa, who gave me a grave look.

Mum was crazy, that's all there was to it. There were cats all over the flat, along with knitted jumpers all over the place. And three angel statues with our names carved at he bottom:

Harriet Jocelyn Watson

Harold Joseph Watson

John Hamish Watson

You can really see that family tradition...I thought to myself.

"Are you hungry, little John? I have some leftover Shepard's pie." Oh that old name, haven't heard it in a while, in fact I think it came from Robin Hood, I could be mistaken…

"Um…no thank you, um, Jane_" I shook my head slowly when her face contorted painfully.

"Oh dear Lord, my heart! Harriet!" She leaned on the dining table hyperventilating, and gripping her shirt.

A few hours later, Harry put mum to bed and explained that mum is prone to panic attacks. And not to mention Harold to her, or dad or strangely myself and dad in the same conversation, also I have to ignore her and even indulge the 'phone calls' with Harold. This woman was broken. I could see why Harry still lives with her.

"So am I staying here from now on or what?"

"Sure, if you want to rent a room." Harry chuckled. "No John, you'll be going to that college mum and I helped you apply for."

"What do you mean 'help'? I knew nothing of it!"

"Consider it a late birthday gift, mum has a friend who owes her big time, and he convinced the dean to accept you."

Yes, but to Hepburn university?! That's a frigging school for rich misfits and trouble makers, shit I'm sure some lords and ladies attend there.

Who am I? A son of a well off abusive army veteran, an ex-seamstress with panic attacks, a sibling to a rich dead drunk, and a lesbian! Not that that's bad, but it's looked down upon still! So much for normal!

"I know that look John, you're facial expressions haven't changed. Just give it a try, if not for me and mum, for yourself." Harry went into big sister mode, her hands on her hips.

"Sure, yeah."

"Promise." She held out her pinky, like when we were children. I just stared at it and watch her drop it.

"No promises," I spoke "but I'll try."

* * *

And I was right to not to promise! Everyone stared at me and gave me looks. Not only because I'm 18 and walked with a cane. But my clothes!

"Nice Jumper, did your mum dress you?" Someone hooted while I passed, my cheeks burned red from embarrassment for it being true and also from anger if I was unhurt I'd punch him in the face until he bled for a week! A Week! I actually have zero tolerance for pricks like these, but I have to be calm and as normal as possible, that is what I want…to be normal

"Class, this is John Watson." The teacher introduced me, he didn't even look like the friendly type in fact he was rather scary looking with that facial expression that screamed 'touch me and you die.'

"No offense but who cares?" A girl at front commented, gaining her a few laughs before he pushed me forward.

Indeed I thought it strange for a professor to be introducing me like I still attended secondary school.

"He is a special case. So treat him nicely. Or else." He grunted then tilted his head to the side which emitted a loud 'crack'. I scurried to my seat and pulled out some paper for notes.

"Hey Moran."

"What?"

"W-when will the professor be back?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know? I'm just a teacher's assistant."

"So will you teach the class then?"

"I suppose I will...what was this class reading?"

"The odyssey."

"Oh I see well then…." A boy sheepishly opened the door and peeped in and cringed at the sight of Mr. Moran and tried to sneak past him. Mr. Moran didn't even move, didn't even have any sound to tip him off, he just stopped the lecture and simply said "out."

The next more familiar face poked his head in and smiled and waltzed right on in…no really he waltzed in, in fact he took Mr. Moran's hand and pulled him into it. Which Mr. Moran just humored him, and stepped side to side. "You're late." He said mid dance.

"I know, you know me busy busy busy." Jim said twirling himself out of the waltz.

"Unfortunately yes, I do. Now hurry up and sit your arse down, so I can continue." It sounded all threatening, some girls screamed and squealed. But Mr. Moran stared them down, and they shut up immediately.

"Oh look Sebby, we have fangirls!" Jim smiled.

"Gay!" A male voice yelled from the back.

Jim chuckled and sat down next to me, not saying a thing to me, perhaps he had forgotten me? I wouldn't be surprised he probably messes with people in the hospital for fun, he seems strange enough.

"OUT!" Moran yelled but no one moved, it was impossible to pin point the person out of the sea of students, but in a few steps Mr. Moran had the culprit by the collar and literally threw him out.

"Anybody else?" He said with a killer's eye, pushing back stray hairs.

"Rawr." Jim winked at him from his spot next to me.

"Just…shut. UP!" He looked like he wanted to say much more but instead took a deep breath and stared Jim down, who was glaring in a equally scary stare just with a smile on.

"Aye aye captain." He said sadly. While Mr. Moran continued, with his lecture having us take notes and reminding us of assigned homework as a true professor would do and dismissed us into our break.

I limped through the halls to the outside and sat down next to a tree, where I swore I could hear the faintest sound of violin music in the distance. Vivaldi…I remembered from the short time my mum forced me to take music class, while her and dad were still together, she always liked the violin, I tried and failed but Harry exceeded tremendously, so there is my small musical background. I remember Vivaldi because of its morbid-ness and haunting, I quite liked it.

"If that freak doesn't stop strumming that thing! I'm going to kill him!" A curly haired dark skinned woman harped, throwing her soda over some bushes.

"You don't have to live in the same dormitory as him, he plays all night!" A tall strangely graying man complained but was holding her arms to try to stop her from throwing her plate over the shrubs.

Poor bloke, I'm probably going to be talked about like that unless I calm down and heal. And plus his playing is far from bad, why can't they just enjoy it. It goes along with the mood of my day…

"Is that psychopath still strumming that thing?!" Another brown haired man with disgustingly gelled hair, came and sat next to Sally.

"You don't strum a violin." I spoke up finally. The violin stopped and so did their ranting.

"Excuse me?" The woman asked.

"I said…" I licked my lips. "You don't strum a violin…you kept saying he's strumming it. I just thought I'd correct you." Really it was for myself than anything else.

"Sorry?" The brown haired man said.

"Leave him alone guys, the same thing was going through my head. Poor bloke just had the gall to say it. I'm Gregory Lestrade. You?"

"John…Watson."

"This is Sally Donovan and…you don't have a first name, do you Anderson?"

"That's private."

"It's Sylvia." Sally laughed, a few seconds Gregory joined, I didn't get it so I just slowly scooted away.

"Goodbye, it was a pleasure to meet you all." I waved awkwardly, but Gregory stretched his arm out in an awkwardly to grab my uninjured shoulder.

"So what happened to you? I can tell you got yourself into a world of hurt. That shoulder and the leg…" He inquired.

"Shoulder? H-how could you tell?" I asked tugging at my jumper sleeve.

"I'm in here to become an detective, I have to know these things." He stated. "And you?"

"Um…overall education. I suppose. Perhaps I'll do rugby after I heal up." I shrugged.

"Rugby? Yeah, you look the type. You any good?"

"Great." I was pretty well off when it came to rugby, was actually the star player in secondary school. "But I really just came for academics."

"Well, you've come to a hell of a school for that. It's hard to pay attention in this university, unless you have Sebastian for a teacher."

"Yes, I hate that Moran bastard!" Sally jumped in. So the toughest professor here isn't even a teacher but a teacher assistant our age? Sad.

"He seemed pretty normal to me." I blinked, a bit strict but reasonable.

"Then you haven't met the other teachers at this school." Sally commented.

"What year are you?" Gregory asked.

"First, and you?"

"We're all second years."

"Oh…well nice to meet you all." I nodded and walked off.

"You seem like a good boy, try to stay out of trouble alright?" Gregory yelled after me.

The violin continued.

"JESUS IF YOU DON'T STOP PLAYING…PLAYING…." Greg shouted in frustration, when he couldn't recall the name of the song.

"Winter!" I yelled back to them, and once more the violin stopped.

"Wow, he manages to shut him up again." An ear splitting train wreck of random violin notes filled the air.

I rubbed my temples, great now I've made myself look like a know it all. Not what I was going for, lesson number one shut your mouth.

* * *

I walked to the central office and was directed to the dormitory manager since I was joining a few weeks before I was supposed to. She seemed like a nice lady, almost reminded me of my mother before she was…well, mentally unstable. The kind that would make you tea and talk your ears off with gossip, which she was…she knew who had what problems, like the boy in dorm 203 sleep walks so they had to pair him with a boy who sleep talked so that he would wake up.

"Well there is only two rooms available usually the boys opt to not share a room, and when they do it's usually with their friends. We have 105 with Gregory Lestrade and 221 with Sherlock Holmes."

"Sherlock? That's a unique name…" I mused.

"Strange boy but he's sweet, he helped me out a few years ago. But to be truthful, he's not widely accepted here, poor thing. The only reason he said that he'd take in a dorm mate is because I asked him to, every person who has which was only one, mind you, ran out screaming." She gossiped. I couldn't think of anything to say so I just made small talk.

"Oh 221 isn't that in the B hall near your office? I wasn't aware that there were rooms available there."

"There is, old ones, they are bigger because they were left alone while others were renovated. They are rumored to be haunted so no one wants to live there but Sherlock, the other rooms in that area are used for storage."

"Storage?"

"Yes, for the science labs and school records. The science labs are literally around the corner."

"This is sure a strange school."

"Yes dear, you'll learn that in the next few days. This is a school unintentionally for those who have certain problems. The former name of this school was Hepburn University for the exceptionally wealthy."

"Wasn't it common for schools to have names behind it?"

"Yes but exceptionally was in all capitals."

"Oh…"

"This is 105." She chimed, and knocked on the door.

And who answered was that graying upperclassman I met this morning, oh, yes, he was Gregory Lestrade.

"Hello Mrs. Hudson, John." Gregory smiled.

"Oh so you two have met!" She clapped. "This is the key and if you need anything, don't be afraid to call me."

"Will do." I hauled my bag into the room.

The room looked pretty regular, he didn't have much decoration though he did have a wall full of famous criminals, and a picture frame with his family on it. But besides that very plain, he was reading text book and ignored me, occasionally glancing at me unpacking.

"I don't decorate because it reminds me that this isn't home, and temporary." He now put the book down, and was looking at me.

"Oh, well it's very tid_" SCREEECH! Sounded like a horror movie! "Excuse me, what time is it?" It's that violin again very faint just vibrations really but then again it's late. Who would be playing at such a time?

"Late, I know. That's Holmes, usually others can't hear it. But the room in the hall behind us is his room so…It's only this and the room next to us, which is a deaf kid, can hear it."

"Oh."

"Look John, I think it's adorable that you're all meek and shy and normal. But you wouldn't be here if you were, don't let those other kids run you over. You're nice, and that's dandy but you've got to take care of yourself here, I won't always be there, since we're in different classes."

"I'm sorry, what?" I blinked, what is he talking about?

"Everyone was laughing at you and if you hadn't said anything to us, I wouldn't have noticed that sign on your back."

"Sign?"

He pointed to a crumpled paper on his desk, I picked it up and unfolded it.

'KISS ME, IM A VIRGIN'

The blood in my veins broiled, senseless! Absolutely senseless!

"It'll only get worse, I'm afraid. Everyone, I mean, everyone, can take care of themselves need be. I need to know you are too. I'm going to be a detective, so I really don't want to see you get messed up or anything." He said.

"That's great, really, but uh…I can take care of myself." I smiled, he just stared at me and shrugged, it must be because of my injuries, my father is a fucking ex military body builder, I can take care of myself otherwise I'd be dead.

"Uh…I swear can't you shut up?!" Gregory stomped his foot on the wall, it only resulted in it getting louder.

"Can't you just go and tell him to tune it down?"

"This is Sherlock Holmes! He doesn't shut up for anyone."

"Have you tried?"

"No one bothers, he won't. Trust me. I even told him about my insomnia, he didn't care one bit!" He put a pillow over his head.

"Insomnia?" Did I catch that right? He's so young!

"Yeah, I don't know when it started but it's chronic, I'm taking meds. My freshman year it took a big toll on my studies, I spoke to the dean, and he gave me a second chance, I cannot screw this up. Therefore taking in account Holmes's violin playing, I have a strict sleep schedule. So I hope you aren't a snorer, cause if so I'll have to boot you out."

"A bit tossing and turning and I get up suddenly a lot. I hope that's not a problem."

"Oh as long as you're not screaming or anything, if it's just getting up Holmes's violin will drown that out."

"Well I for one cannot sleep with that ruckus." I grabbed my cane and struggled to stand.

Gregory rose and hovered over me in case I was to fall over.

"I told you it's no use! Sit down!" He tried to push me back down.

"Keep your hands off of me! I can walk myself damn it! I'm not an invalid!" I pushed him off and walked out of the room.

"I'm just sparing you! Holmes will rip you apart!" He yelled as I limped down the hall.

"I'd like to see him try…" I muttered to myself.

I turned the corner and found myself face to face with the numbers: 221.

I took a huge breath and knocked gently.

The door opened and there he was the infamous Sherlock Holmes, violin in hand.

"Yes?" He said his blue eyes flickered all over me and then he finally steadied his gaze straight into mine, I'm sure that it's intimidating to others but me? No not me too used to it, instead I just got to the point.

"Do you think you can_?" I started.

"No." He said about to close the door.

"Why not?" I asked jamming my foot in the door.

"Because this is my dorm, I can do what I want."

"Not if it's bothering others."

"You're shot." He craned his neck to try to see my shoulder.

"Yes, I am."

"Abusive father, ex-military. There was a conflict, and you were hit by a glass object. You were hiding behind a door when he shot you. You weren't alone no you couldn't possibly have fought him and won, you had help…a sibling." My breath was taken away, I hung on his every word, how could he possibly know all of that?!

"How could you possibly know all of that?" I couldn't help but to smile a bit.

"I don't. I noticed." He said curtly, looking at me as if I was strange. "The conflict was easy enough to deduce, any idiot can tell that there has to be a stimuli to start this whole confrontation, the glass, easy, the it's clean but bruised, which cancelled out the knife option. Your shoulder, you kept it stiff because it is injured but whilst receiving my answer to your question, you rolled it. That was a red flag that it wasn't broken but still hurt. You have a cut on right above your hairline that you so poorly tried to cover with your hair, and the way you didn't care to bandage it and it being in a highly creased area of your head tells me that your accustomed to pain and would not bother stunting the movement of your shoulder for a mere bruise, with that but of information I was able to deduce that it was from a bullet wound. And it was not a simple bullet wound, a clean in and out, point blank probably. It hit here and shattered some of your shoulder bone. Minimal damage." He pointed to the place immediately under my shoulder joint and collar bone, yes at long range it wouldn't have that much effect on my arm movement, but close yes. "But that conclusion would raise the question as to why you were shot point blank? The shoulder is typically not the most desirable place to shoot a person point blank usually the head or the chest, but shoulder, no. Also, it seems that's not the only thing that pierced your skin, hence that tasteless turtleneck that doesn't hide those tiny scratches from anyone whose taller than you, which is the majority of the students here. They are obviously not clean or deep enough to be glass, looks more like wood. And that led to another question: What was wood? The bullet took a straight path apparently to have damaged your shoulder so, so it's would be safe to guess that it was a door. He couldn't see you but he heard you, and couldn't open the door since your sibling and yourself were pressing on it. So he took his gun and shot you where he heard any noise at all, your shoulder on the door trying to hear if he had gone. The abusive military father is written all over you, and explaining it simply so you can understand will waste more time than I have already. "

"That…that was amazing." I said as casually as I could.

"You think so?" He raised a brow.

"Yes it was extraordinary." I nodded once, "so about that violin?"

"No." He said once more. "Flattery gets you nowhere."

"I see. Very well then…" I started back down the hall.

"Why did you bother? It was hard not to hear Lestrade yelling after you."

"To be honest it doesn't bother me. It was bothering Greg, thought I'd try and also I kept hearing about you. Thought I would meet you myself, see if what they say is true."

"Well?" He asked now leaning against the door frame.

"Bach. You should play that or something else slower. It should lessen Greg's irritation."

"I'll consider it." He smirked then slinked back into his room.

One song, Bach from what I can hear, and then silence.

"My God, what did you day to him?" Greg rose

"I asked politely, he said no, I suggested a song, he said he'll consider. It's late he probably got tired, and has nothing to do with me."

"Oh you lucky son of a bitch. You just don't know…" Greg…ory chuckled, didn't know why I called him Greg with Sherlock guess must be the living in the room thing.

"Goodnight John."

"Night Greg." He didn't mind, so I'll stick to it.

"_You worthless faggot! What the hell is this?" He pushed a perfectly good plate of food off the table._

"_Dinner." I sighed, he looked for any reason at all._

"_Don't give me that shit! This is the equivalent of horse shit!" He tried to throw his glass at my head, I stepped aside and heard it shatter._

"_Well, dad, really I don't know what you want from me. So if you want to go ahead and get on with the beating that would be great." I sighed, it was one of those days, that I just couldn't…I wouldn't allow myself to be scared, I tried to be brave, I tried._

"_Getting mouthy now are ya? You remind me of your mother."_

"_Well your drunk, and she got smart and left."_

"_SHUT UP!" He slammed my head on the table, I remember my eye sight was still blurred and that I was still trying to gather my wits while I was bent over the table. I heard the sound of his belt coming off, which was normal, but what happened next made my heart drop. He started tugging at my pants. I remember thinking that he really wouldn't do this to me, he never has before. He thought it disgusting he was my father for heavens sake he wouldn't! With his own son!_

_Then it was me screaming as he did. He took me on the table, all the while yelling insults. It was embarrassing, it was shameful, it was possibly the worst thing he's ever done to me. Up until now it was just pain, but now? I felt dirty, I showered for 5 hours that night, admittingly crying that I couldn't stop him and that I was forced to wash away the dirt that could possibly convict him. Call the police? Never, we had no phones, and he ordered me to shower and would watch me if he thought I wasn't. It was….it was…hopeless._

"JOHN! WAKE UP!" I heard Greg yell, "Bloody hell you were screaming bloody Mary!"

"Oh, I'm sorry." I noticed I still kept shaking, and sweat covered me making everything stick to me.

"I'm sure Mrs. Hudson was called. Jesus mate, you gave me a heart attack, you kept yelling stop and…to be frank John it sounded like you were being raped. Now I don't want to pry, but does this happen often?"

"Yeah, but usually I don't scream, i-it must be stress. Thanks for waking me up."

"John sweetheart! Are you okay?" Mrs. Hudson came in with her maroon old fashioned night dress and pulled me into a hug.

"I'm fine." I assured her, I could see Greg rubbing his temples looking like he was worried…conflicted.

"Look I understand if you don't want to room with me after this…"  
"I won't hear any of it! Gregory!"

"I-I'm sorry, I really am. I-I can't fail because of screaming in the middle of the night, y-you understand don't you?!" He hung his head low, this must be weighing on him hard.

"Greg! It's fine. No hard feelings, really." I assured him, Mrs. Hudson rubbed circles on my back.

"Thanks mate." He sighed.

"Well Mrs. Hudson? Is there anywhere I can sleep?" I asked drawing my bag from underneath the bed.

"I-I'll have to see…we'll have to go to my office." I followed her out, we were meted by cracked doors closing as we passed by, a bit of snickering. I was so glad when we finally turned the corner to hall way B.

The long hall was only lit by a few lights the library took up the whole right side, and storage all on the left side at the very end of the hall were living quarters. It was almost eerie, it was certainly old style and had a loneliness and antiquity to it. Almost like walking through an old house, I was so focused on that rose wreath that hung on Mrs. Hudson's door, that I didn't notice a door open to my right. Sherlock. He had a rather tired but pissed look at the same time, but he was holding the door open…for me.

"Oh, Sherlock! You gentleman you!" Mrs. Hudson squealed, which earned her an eye roll.

"I'm not going to hold this door all day. It is only common courtesy since your disabled." I chuckled a bit, courtesy? He was going to play the violin until ungodly times at night!

I stood there trying to figure out what he was playing at, until I noticed his eyes avoiding me and there were a tinge of pink on his cheeks. I gave him the benefit of the doubt and I walked in and turned around to thank Mrs. Hudson. And with that the door was closed and I was left alone with Sherlock Holmes.

A quick look around told me what he did on his spare time, there were beakers and bottles of chemicals left strewn around everywhere. I also noticed medical tools all over the place, scalpels, a human anatomical model, and a skeletal model. Underneath it all, it was most certainly designed by Mrs. Hudson, old style pillows, antique wall paper, and furniture. But there was a few things tapered to his taste a picture frame of a skull. It was a mess, a huge, mess, but I can fix that if allowed. I could live here.

"Thank you for letting me stay here." I said after he pointed to my bed, yes, this was certainly a larger place than the other dorms, much bigger.

"Don't be ridiculous, you were going to be living here either way, I'm the only room available. I was saving us all time. It's not like I actually felt pity for you." He crossed his arms and plopped down on the sofa. He grabbed his violin and plucked at the strings.

"Thank you." I said regardless.

"For what now?" He threw his hands up.

"Not pitying me." I managed a tired smile, before going back to bed.

I was half asleep, I wanted to fight it, the sleepiness…the memories, but I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow, I so desperately needed to sleep, so I tossed and turned trying to find a good position to sleep.

When suddenly I hear the violin playing the most relaxing tune I've ever heard. And finally and gratefully I began to feel the sleep come over me. I realize now that my life will never be the same and will also never be normal…I can just embrace that and get as close to normal as I can. Hopefully I don't wake up too anything too strange.

* * *

**Poor John, you just moved in with Sherlock Holmes! Of course it'll be strange! Anyways correction? Review? Likes? Any form of acknowledgement is much appreciated. Thanks for reading! **


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